On the fifteenth anniversary of September 11, 2001, there will be those who claim the debt has been paid with the death by Navy Seal of Osama bin Laden. To those people, who desire above all else to avoid inconvenience, who desire above all else to be able to claim a purity and nobility above that of the people who are determined to kill us, I say the debt has not been paid, and will not be paid until the fourteen hundred years of Islamic terror and death meted out to the West by the adherents of the religion of peace is wiped clean by the massive shedding of Islamic blood and the destruction of Islam itself, and the slate returned to its accustomed place on the wall. It will happen, though the when is to be determined. But it will come, for Islam will not cease its attacks on us, and in the end extermination, despite the unwillingness of a civilized West to eradicate an entire people, will be seen to be the only resort. It will come, this eradication of the verminous religion, and only then will the deaths and enslavements and tortures of millions of Christians over the past fourteen hundred years be revenged.

Revenge is sweet, or so they say
And so there comes on one fine day
The sword of vengeance put in play
To see the deed is done
Tomorrow or perhaps the next
The bloody finger writes the text
Revenge for those so sorely vexed
And then the deed is done
The killers set the tinder spark
As death and blood define the mark
A flash of light and all is dark
And thus the deed is done

A black woman went ballistic when a white teacher touched the hair of her young daughter who had asked the teacher to put the hair up under her headband. The mother screamed that no dirty, stinking, white racist cracker could touch her daughter’s sacred black hair. And the mother’s black rage escalated from there. Black Lives Matter urges blacks to murder white cops, and the eternal race hustlers like Sharpton and Jackson continue to spew hatred toward all things white. To all who voted for Obama in the expectation of racial healing, the healing is about to erupt in violence unseen since the post-civil war South when the KKK night riders were burning black homes and farms.

The sky lit red with flames of hate
Black farms and homes went up in flames
But that was 1868
The hatred stayed, just changed the names
To Jackson, Sharpton, Revered Wright
And yes Barack who took up sides
When truth was black and lie was white
And nightly KKK still rides
Demand safe space, white racists out
No roommates white, this school is ours
Black Power! is the chanted shout
Beat down the white until he cowers
Burn Baby Burn! still fills the air
As neighborhoods burn to the ground
Don’t touch a little black girl’s hair
And death to every whitey found

The Clinton Foundation is part of a criminal organization based in the home of Bill and Hillary Clinton in Chappaqua, New York. It was in this house in Chappaqua that the now infamous unsecured and illegal private server was installed in order to prevent any outsiders from seeing the communications between Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton, her underlings and satellite mob bosses. When questions began to be asked she deleted thirty thousand emails relating to the pay for play game in which foreign governments like China and Saudi Arabia gave tens of millions of dollars to the Clinton Foundation in return for access to Hillary’s privately run US State Department. Governments and individuals gave money to Hillary and Bill through the phony money laundering Clinton Foundation charity; a foreign national gave five million dollars just for a meeting with the US ambassador to Lebanon. What did he get for his five million dollars? What did China and Saudi Arabia get for their tens of millions? We will know when the hackers release the emails that Hillary thought she had destroyed forever. I spoke to Bill Clinton, her consigliere, despite his law license being revoked, and he smiled and said he was confident nothing would be revealed, and if Hillary won the election nothing would ever be revealed. I’m not so sure. I’m waiting for those hacked emails.

There’s nothing there, Bill Clinton said
And chuckled as he did
They’ll never touch her pretty head
And though I like to kid
I’m serious about the lies
That daily come from Fox
That classified docs make us spies
And other stuff that shocks
Me to the core when I see how
She works so gosh darn hard
To see that things are better now
Right here in our backyard
I have no fear that hackers might
Release some emails soon
Most likely on a Friday night
Beneath a waning moon
These charges all roll off our skin
Like water off a duck
So let the FBI begin
They won’t have no more luck
Than Comey had with our friend Lynch
With us all things are free
We beat all raps, this one’s a cinch
We’re Clintons, don’t you see

Prior to the advent of compassionate liberalism, the Black family was doing all right; not great, but all right. A 1925 study of the Black family showed almost universal two parent homes, no more crime in black neighborhoods than in white, with almost no out of wedlock births. In short, while there was always the problem of assimilation and integration, the Black Family was getting ahead, until the advent of Compassionate Liberalism that believed that government assistance would lift the Black Family into the middle class. The result, as we have seen, was and is, catastrophe. Government policies of welfare destroyed the Black Family. The FDR era program to aid widows with dependent children was transformed into aid for single mothers, with the stipulation that if there was a man in the house when the case worker came around, the check would stop coming. And so now we have a 70% rate of out of wedlock births in the black community, with generations of young black males raised without benefit of a father to civilize and acculturate them, and they grow up, all too often, to be predators and criminals. Compassionate Liberalism has killed the Black Family and left the country with a serious problem, a problem that can only be solved with the reinstitution of the Family as the bedrock of the community. The black community survived much over the decades, including genocide by Planned Parenthood, and if left alone by a compassionate government to solve their own problems all will eventually be all right. But if it isn’t solved, there will be more cities burned, more Black Lives Matter terrorism, and ultimately an undeclared race war. Liberal compassion kills.

At fifteen black girls knew that life
Had already been set
Like mama, never be a wife
A welfare check she’d get
No man around to show the boys
How men should act and be
Instructing in the sorrows, joys
That came with being free
For generations grew the rot
Whole cities ruined lay
Walled into ghettos, then forgot
No work from day to day
The crime and drugs and murder gangs
Grew ever strong and wild
And little girls with labor pangs
Brought forth another child

Colin Kaepernick has a right to kneel or stay seated during the playing of the national anthem, and I have the right to not watch any football team he might be associated with. I do sympathize with him somewhat though, because he got entangled with an Egyptian Muslim woman who was very highly thought of in San Francisco circles because she was also a radical leftist, a radical feminist, an admirer of Fidel Castro and Mao, and an ardent Black Lives Matter activist. One can only sympathize with the pillow talk the man must have endured.

The bedroom dark and pillow talk
Now softly underway
She stroked his hair and said let’s walk
The road we walk today
A road to nowhere, narrow, steep
A road that’s filled with hate
Goddammit Colin, don’t you sleep!
Not on our first damn date!
You do not know the suffering
Of men of color here
You’ve had a life of buffering
Just listen to me, dear
This country is an evil place
The flag, the anthem, all
The white man says those of our race
Must answer when they call
Must bow and scrape and lick their boots
Say yes sir, yes ma’am, bitch
They rule our lives the horrid brutes
And I just get the itch
To kill them all, my pretty one
And you will too as well
You’re getting dressed, you’ve got to run?
Tomorrow? Sure, what the hell

On the afternoon of 20 January 2021, shortly after the swearing in of the country’s first female Muslim president, Huma Abedin, the Clintons left the White House for the last time, in a van filled with furniture, paintings and bathroom fittings. At their home in Chappaqua, New York, a now very reflective Bill Clinton wrote the critically acclaimed memoir, The Little Blue Dress.

‘The building smelled like everybody who ever lived there, and as my feet touched the threadbare carpeting of the ancient stair, I grasped the cool wooden handrail, worn smooth by generations of sweating hands, and as I did I caught the soursweet smell of cooking that seemed to be coming from the second floor, the landing dimly lighted by a dirt encrusted bare bulb that cast my moving shadow on the wall beside me, and together we stood in front of the door the cooking smell was coming from, a cooking smell that meant woman, and a woman was what I needed right now more than food, though I would probably be hungry afterwards.’ So ended the first sentence of Bill Clinton’s memoir, and I can’t wait to read the rest of it, though the rest seems to be written, fittingly enough, in rhymed couplets.

I’ve been accused of lies and rapes
I tell you, friends, it’s sour grapes
From women I  have kissed one time
But kissing women’s not a crime
I liked them short and liked them tall
But more than that I can’t recall
Though some were slim and some were fat
But women all and that was that
Not all were pretty, that’s a fact
And being with them took some tact
But I’ve enjoyed my life so far
And that reminds me when a car
Pulled up as I was on a walk
She stopped and said we have to talk
We spent the weekend at her place
But darned If I recall her face
The White House cooled me off a bit
But just to keep in shape I’d sit
At my big desk and I confess
I wish to God I’d burnt that dress

The summer of 1916 saw the Western allies preparing for the great summer offensive that would end the war. In the British sector, Haig planned the breakthrough along the Somme River, beginning with a weeklong bombardment by 1500 guns designed to kill every German in their trenches just a short walk east of the British lines. When the barrage lifted the Pals Battalions climbed out of their trenches and were mowed down by German machine-gunners, untouched in their deep bunkers by the bombardment, killing 19,000 British soldiers in a single morning. There will be no future Sommes, at least not in the details, but there are those pressing for war by NATO against Russia over its incursion into Ukraine, and NATO means the United States, whose army has been so greatly reduced in size and readiness by Obama that one fears the result of the current US Army facing such a formidable opponent on his home turf. Do we really want our little girls to come home in body bags? The feminists do, and the Left does, all in the name of fairness, all in the name of opening up military careers previously denied women, as if the military were just another corporation or law firm. The military is there to fight and win wars, and the denial of women to be in the combat military is, or was,  based on the immutable nature of gender that makes women unsuitable for the physical demands of combat. The feminization of the military has gone on for decades, to the point where women have assumed very high command positions in the combat arms, and hundreds of flag rank officers have been dismissed by Obama and replaced by sycophants whose only qualification for command is race and gender. A recent ruling by the Obama administration allowing the transgendered into the military completes the circle of the suicidal insanity begun by the feminists and their leftist male colleagues. Had half the 101^st Airborne been women and transgendered would they have held Bastogne? To ask the question is to answer it. The Somme offensive saw hundreds of small villages across Britain lose every young man in one morning. A land war with Russia will result in thousands of body bags filled with young women coming home. Losing a son in war is terrible enough, but losing a daughter to feminist ideology is not to be borne.

The big four engine cargo plane
Lands safely and on time
And taxis to the color guard
Her cargo almost home
The flag draped casket comes to rest
On tarmac that has seen
So many aircraft in its time
That brought the cargo home
The hearse receives its occupant
And leads the mourners out
From Dover and the sad-draped flags
To see the cargo home
The gravesite hides the new-turned earth
With green hued plastic grass
Her parents watch with tear red eyes
Their little girl now home

The country is on the verge of coming apart. Obama has set blacks against whites and whites against blacks and both against Hispanics, to the point where there may not be a coming together as one country ever again. At a busy intersection of a crowded city street, I chanced to glance behind me, and saw, through the summer throng, the ghostly figure of an elderly man dressed in a tattered robe and carrying a sign that read, The End Is Near. Beside him, the ghostly figure of a young woman stared fixedly at me. The young woman approached and whispered in my ear. “A mighty nation has divided,” she said, voice low and ominous, “and the sharp and broken shards have taken the sword one against the other, the blood red blades not to be put down again for thirteen generations. I, Kassandra, the daughter of Hecuba the Queen, prophecy thus.” Still staring fixedly, she faded until gone, with no one there but the elderly man with the sign. He smiled and said, “What will thee believe, young sir, a prophecy that implies that all will be well in thirteen generations, or the evidence of your eyes?” He came closer and said, “In measured time the shards will tire of the sword, and the nation will devolve into a myriad of paper nations as unsubstantial as the morning mist, ruled by princes and usurpers, the evil and the mad. Thus is, and was, the nature of man. Prepare, my son, for the music has stopped, though few as yet have noticed.” With that he smiled again and slowly faded, leaving me again at the busy intersection, surrounded by the smiling summertime crowd of those who have not yet noticed.

That night I dreamed a lonely dream of being home again
Surrounded by the golden gleam of moonlight on the fen
And as I walked beneath the sky so bright with starry light
There came a soft and mournful sigh that filled the darkened night
Kassandra walked beside me and she whispered in my ear
And as she did she touched my hand and said the end is near
Twelve generations now are gone, have perished every one
And yet will come the new born dawn to see the setting sun
For endless war is never done when nations break apart
When brother kills his mother’s son and breaks his mother’s heart
The princes and usurpers and the evil and the mad
Have all the hatred fires fanned and liberty forbade
The prophecy was wrong, she said, the error it was mine
Destruction though, and millions dead, that error it was thine

Get used to it. The country is no longer a Constitutional Republic, it is a popular democracy, where the law is whatever the majority of the people say it is. The last vestige, the Electoral College, under attack for many years, will disappear in favor of the presidential winner being the candidate having the most overall popular votes. Popular democracies always tend further and further to the left until they wind up as Venezuela or worse. Popular democracy always ends in dictatorship, authoritarian or totalitarian. There are more votes at the bottom of the food chain than at the top or in the middle, and the bottom dwellers always vote for whoever gives them the most money, goods and services from the public treasury, and they tend to keep those people in power. Hugo Chavez was not an anomaly. The election of Donald Trump will only delay for a short time the transformation of the country to third world status. The election of Hillary Clinton will ensure a rubber stamp Supreme Court and complete the transformation of the United States.

The Constitution is no more, Supremes a rubber stamp
And Lady Liberty just shrugs, extinguishing her lamp
The mob, the activists in charge, the Balkans is their goal
Divide the country into groups, large numbers on the dole
Whose votes propel the country down the path long since defined
By countries as they’ve left the law and thereafter declined
Two hundred years and more we’ve stood, a beacon in the night
The Left has won, the law is moot, we now turn out the light

Everything has antecedents. Consider the world today had Carthage conquered Rome and razed it to the ground, putting its inhabitants to the sword and fire, the city of Rome salted and disappearing forever as did Carthage at the hands of Scipio’s grandson. There would be no such religion as Christianity, the history of Europe would have been completely different, and the present so different as to be unimaginable since hardly any Europeans living today would ever have been born. What would the United States of today be like had there been no American slavery? Hardly anyone alive today would have been born due to the 600,000 young men who died in the Civil War not being alive to marry and have children, the women they would have married marrying different men and having different children. There would have been no Willy Mays or Louis Armstrong, and Greensleeves would still be a Top Forty hit. We can, however, imagine a world in which Gavrilo Princip did not shoot and kill the Archduke Ferdinand, unleashing a World War that saw the rise of the Soviet Union and the collapse of the German, Ottoman, Russian and Austro-Hungarian empires. Had there been no World War 1, there would have been no Hitler, no World War 2, no Stalin, no Soviet Union, no Mao and no Communist China, no Korean War, no Viet Nam, no atom bombs and no hydrogen bombs. The world of 2016 without the world of World War 1916 would have been quite different than it is. Would there have been a 1920s jazz age in the United States? Doubtful. Jet aircraft? Doubtful. Would there be wars and rumors of wars? Absolutely. Would there have been poverty and unrest in most of the world? Absolutely. History is very clear – nothing changes but the details.

The past is past and now is cast in stone
But past was once the future still unknown
And history is but the writing of the might have beens
Had only future destinies been shown
We think the past predestined, set by fate
And written in a book by verse and date
That those who’ve gone before were well aware of future sins
That all would become clear if we but wait
The present is the past but yet to come
What’s gone before is added to the sum
Of all the many losses and of all the many wins
That tell us where we are and where we’re from